“I think not,” was the reply. “I endeavoured to prevent such effect arising, and—and in this the Englishman helped me greatly.”
Without moving a muscle the Provincial turned his eyes towards the young priest. He did not look up into his face, but appeared to be watching his slim hands, which were moving nervously upon the surface of his black soutane.
“My son,” he said smoothly. “As you know, I am a great advocate for frankness. Frankness in word and thought, in subordinate and superior. I have always been frank with you, and from you I expect similar treatment. It appears to me that there is still something unsatisfactory respecting your successfully executed mission. It is in connection with this Englishman. Is it not so?”
René Drucquer moved a little, changing his attitude and clasping his hands one over the other.
“He is not such as I expected,” he replied after a pause.
“No,” said the Provincial meditatively. “They are a strange race. Some of them are strong—very strong indeed. But most of them are foolish; and singularly self-satisfied. He is intelligent, this one; is it not so?”
“Yes, I think he is very intelligent.”
“Was he violent or abusive?”
“No; he was calm and almost indifferent.”
For some moments the Provincial thought deeply. Then he waved his hand in the direction of a chair which stood with its back towards the window at the end of the table.